


This World is on Fire

by passionately_curious



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/M, Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionately_curious/pseuds/passionately_curious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a new land was being carved out of an untamed frontier, one woman, defiantly courageous, stood her ground. One man, fiercely independent, followed his spirit. They shared an adventure that took them from the edge of the wilderness and into each other's hearts. Written as part of the Movies in the Month of May challenge, based off of The Last of the Mohicans</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The forest is quiet down here, days away from the incessant fighting between the English and French over land that isn’t either of theirs to fight over. It is for this reason that the trio of nearly-relatives have refused to join the militia with the others and opted to stay on their own land, living their own lives. Haymitch warns that at some point, the boundaries of this war will spill over and include them, but that day is not today. And until it is, they stay out of it.

A twig snapping catches Katniss’ attention and she shifts her eyes toward the sound. A few meters away is her cousin, Gale Hawthorne and he motions with the slightest tilt of his head that he’s spotted the creature. An eight-point buck eating the foliage not far from their hunting location. Katniss quietly pulls an arrow from her quiver and pulls her bow back until the string presses against her lips. _One. Two. Three_.

Her arrow pierces the beast’s heart while Gale’s simultaneously strikes the lungs. He’s not quite as accurate of a shot as she is, but together they’re able to take the buck down quickly and humanely as possible. She whistles out three notes, the calling for Haymitch to retrieve the kill. Though older and far less agile as them, Haymitch attends the hunts so as to properly perform the ritual needed to ensure future prosperity for the family.

The three approach the buck together but Gale and Katniss hold back as Haymitch kneels by its head. “Accept our humble gratitude for your sacrifice. In death, you give life. May you find wings to the Kingdom.” He slices the buck’s throat, letting the blood flow out onto the ground and dips his finger in the liquid to paint a small symbol on the deer’s neck.

Gale hoists the buck onto his shoulders and begin our journey to the Mason cabin a few miles down the road. The Masons and Haymitch have known each other for years and their eldest daughter, Johanna, has more than proved her ability to survive in such a wilderness. Gale enjoys these visits more than Katniss does, mostly because the two girls have never been particularly close.

“Who’s there?” They hear Johanna’s voice call out as they come upon the frontier home. “Surely not Haymitch Abernathy and his kin because they wouldn’t just appear for no reason after so many months.”

Haymitch grunts in response. He’s a cranky old man at times, but carries a soft spot for the formidable Johanna Mason. “Your father in?”

She’s leaning against an ax when they near. She nods her head toward the house. “With the young’ns. Brainless. Hawthorne.”

Katniss scowls at her nickname, which only makes the cart they’ve loaded our hunt and other possessions into for the trip, shake from Gale’s laughter. She releases her grip on the handle, momentarily causing Gale to buckle from the extra weight he’s suddenly holding.

 _That’ll shut him up_.

Jessen, Johanna’s father, having heard the commotion, steps into the doorway of the house. “Haymitch. Gale. Katniss, how good to see you after so long. And what a majestic creature. Take him round back, Jo will help the butchering.”

Johanna gives a truly frightening smile and leads them to the back shed. 

* * *

“We thank you, Haymitch, for this food,” Johanna’s mother says, setting the meat on the table for the families to enjoy. “Your family always cares for us.”

“You’ve done more for us over the years,” Gale answers solemnly.

“If you’d like to truly repay me, you could go find a suitable woman and have a family,” she jokes, glancing between Gale and Johanna. Finally it’s Katniss’ turn to snicker at their reaction to being paired up.

Haymitch also lets out a small snort. “We want similar things for him, I suppose.”

Gale coughs uncomfortably. “How’s the harvest been this year?”

His attempts to change the topic work, as Jessen and Haymitch discuss the crop cycle. Gale looks over at Katniss with a pained look that she returns. As soon as they became of age, Gale two years before her, Haymitch seemed intent on getting them married off. What started out as subtle hints quickly became overt statements. He’s worried about the future of his line so with Gale being the last true-blood from his family, he’s getting the brunt of it. Luckily, Gale actually wants his own family, while Katniss is content to live on her own.

Katniss’ blood family was killed years ago and she was fortunate to be taken in by Haymitch and his nephew and her cousin, Gale. They are the only family she figures she needs anymore, the only family she wants.

“I’ve heard a faction of the French and Huron army is moving South,” Johanna said as the adults continued their talking. “There are rumors that they’re looking to form a militia to aid the British defense.”

“You’d join?” Katniss asks in disbelief, unable to fathom why anyone would willingly sign up to defend either imperialist side.

Johanna shrugged, a rare moment of reality in her face. “You both know as well as I do that when the British want something, they won’t stop at just asking. Father’s too old, but Kristophe is young enough to be reaped into the war.”

Gale’s mouth twists. Kristophe is Johanna’s eldest brother and the same age as Gale’s brother, Rory. They moved out of their native lands years ago, with Gale staying behind with his uncle. They used to get updates from Hazelle, but lately they’ve only heard wisps of stories every now and then. If the English were forming militias, its likely Rory and possibly even Vick might get swept up in the mess.  “You’re a good sister,” he says with a curt nod.

“I wish I weren’t some days,” she answers, glancing over her shoulder at where Kristophe and her two other brothers sit by the hearth. “But I’m afraid we’ll all make sacrifices before this stupid war is over.”

 _I tend to agree_ , Katniss says only to herself.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Leftenant Finnick Odair, reporting for duty, Sir.”

General Plutarch Heavensbee looks up from his parchment at the young militant who has just entered his office. “How was your journey?”

“I saw nothing of surprise on the way but I did hear of the Crown negotiating terms of service with the Americans,” Finnick responds with a crooked eyebrow. “I was not under the impression they were in a position to ask of anything from us.”

Plutarch sighs and rubs his finely bearded chin. “Lay of the land out here, I’ve discovered. The Americans do nothing without some bit of reassurance and agreements for their actions. It’s absolutely exhausting.”

“And of King Snow’s desire to make the world…England?” Finnick asks with a biting tone unbecoming of how one speaks to his superior.

General Heavensbee sits straight in his chair and decisively clears his throat. “Have you questions on your assignment, Leftenant?”

The emphasis on his rank did not go unnoticed by Finnick, nor the others in the room. “None, Sir. Where are the transports?”

He waves his hand and out of the shadows walks a large man with scars over his muscular chest. “What is it that Crane calls you?”

“Brutus,” the man answers with a deep, gravel voice.

“Right,” Plutarch says, turning back to Finnick. “Crane has sent an ally for you to make the trip to Ft. William Henry with the others. The transports are at a small cottage a few miles down. Brutus will show you to them.”

Finnick saluted. “Sir.” Turning to Brutus, he nodded. “We leave at dawn.”

Inside the cottage, Finnick finds a young mand and woman sitting at a table, playing chess. “Ahem. Master Mellark, Miss Cresta, I am Finnick Odair. I’m to guide you both to Fort William Henry in the morning.”

The man looks up from the chessboard. “Please, Leftenant, call me Peeta. Out here, I’m no one.” He moves a piece on the board. “This is Annie. Annie, Leftenant Odair.”

Annie doesn’t answer, only nods without breaking her concentration. Without saying a word, she moves her knight and trades it with Peeta’s bishop.

“Did you just…Annie!” Peeta chuckles. “You’re making my feel incredibly inadequate when you so easily best me.”

Annie quirks and eyebrow and smirks. “Would you like some tea, Leftenant?”

“No, thank you, Miss.”

“You should have some,” Peeta offers with a smile. “We haven’t had a single visitor here in days and Annie must be tired of my stories by now.”

Finnick acquiesces but finds himself uncomfortable under the guise of the well-educated duo, evident by their chess abilities and fine clothing. They tell him this is their first trip to the Americas; their inexperience with such landscape and possible scenarios ahead of them leave Finnick unhappy with his current situation.

* * *

“You aren’t pleased with this assignment, are you Leftenant?” Peeta asks, riding up next to Finnick on their journey the next morning. Annie’s horse trails only slightly behind, never far from Peeta’s eye.

“I am merely performing a duty, Sir, my feelings on the matter are not important.”

Peeta’s strikingly blue eyes say more than Finnick was prepared for, as if they were reading his true thoughts and intentions despite his best efforts. “I can assure you that Annie and I will be of little trouble. We may not be properly trained as you, but we are survivors of our kind.”

“What is it that Major Crane wants with you at Fort Henry?”

“We were sent on the word of King Snow himself, according to the currier who brought us over.”

“Are you engaged then?” Finnick asks.

It’s not an unusual or unwarranted question, as women rarely travel without a guardian of some sort. And with people their age, it is a logical deduction that they must be betrothed. “We likely should be but Miss Cresta is a friend of mine. A sister of sorts, I suppose. Are you married, Leftenant?”

Finnick bristled in his seat, unnerved by the civilian’s lack of propriety while talking to an officer of the British Army. “Absolutely not. Marriage is not allowed until I have finished my required civil service for His Majesty.”

“Peeta?” Annie’s voice calls to him from her horse. She is leaning forward, resting her chest against the mare’s neck. “Can we rest soon?”

Peeta glances at Finnick, only to find that his eyes are already on the whispy girl. Without a word passing between them, Finnick nudges his own stead and swiftly moves to the front of the pack where Brutus is leading them. “Guide, we must pause. Miss Cresta needs water.”

“No,” Brutus commands, pointing forward, “two leagues.”

“I am in command of the wellbeing of this brigade and I command that we stop. Is that understood?” Finnick responds with a commanding voice. Dalton mutters something under his breath which only serves to further infuriate Finnick. “I said to stop.”

Once they pause at a shady glen, Peeta assists Annie off her horse and leads her to a nearby rock to rest on. “Are you already, Annie?”

“It’s the sun. And this horrid dress,” Annie answers, sipping down some water. “I hate traveling in it.”

Peeta laughs. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. But we must be cautious not to request too many breaks from Leftenant Odair. You should keep this water flask with you so you can drink from it whenever.”

Annie laughs. “I do suppose this dress is good for one thing. No one would ever imagine all the things I could stow away in it.”

A shriek causes Annie to spill most of the water down the front of her dress. Peeta jumps up to see what has caused the commotion only fall back down as Finnick rides by, shouting out formation orders to the rest of the brigade. The air quickly fills with the sounds of muskets and the smell of gunpowder and blood. Shots ring out from the surrounding countryside and English soldiers collapse on the ground. Across the way, Brutus stands with a bloodied tomahawk at his side, slashing through whoever crosses his path.  Annie and Peeta stay frozen where they are, unable to look away from the massacre before them.

Like locusts, the remaining war party comes crashing down from the hillside, attacking the remaining Red Coats with clubs and guns and tomahawks, destroying everyone in their path. Finnick quickly fashions a crude net of sorts from the greenery around him, trapping a handful of the enemy and then using his musket like a trident, spearing them one by one until their blood ran down the barrel of his gun, staining his hands.

He spins, locating his two transports, and runs quickly to them. “Hide,” he instructs. “No telling what they may do with the likes of you.”

Annie nods, crouching down behind the large rock, eyes constantly scanning the environment. “Peeta!” She hisses, pulling at his jacket. “To your left, just beyond the tree.”

Peeta nods and dashes toward the space Annie described, to where a British soldier lies bleeding to death in the grass. “I am sorry,” he whispers, pulling the soldier’s musket from his fingers. The man begins to moan in pain, blood spilling from his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. Aiming the musket at the soldier, he puts the man out of his pain, quieting the agonizing cries for one brief moment.

He reloads the musket as quickly as possible, his fingers fumbling as he places the patch over the end of the barrel between the powder and lead bullet. He can hear his blood rushing through his head, his eyes constantly scan the field. He is crouched down, the grass giving him some camouflage from the attackers.

But not enough. Someone spots him, starts whooping and running toward him, tomahawk raised and ready to strike. Annie remains hidden and Finnick is too far. Peeta aims his musket, trying to remain calm and stop shaking from the adrenaline and fear pulsing through him. He knows his gun skills aren’t spectacular, so even with his target in close range, he worries he’ll miss.

He focuses his eyes, and feels the pressure of the trigger under his finger.

The man lets out a cry and falls forward, an arrow piercing his back. From the hillside, he can make out the silhouette of a figure, holding the bow that fired the kill shot. She stands for only a moment, then breaks into a full sprint toward the fight, joined by another, larger figure. From a different angle, a third comes out. With precision unlike anything Peeta’s seen before, the trio work to take out more of the enemy natives than the entirety of the British brigade had before them. One with a bow, one with a gun, and one with a series of knives that he throws with near perfect accuracy.

Brutus senses his own danger, locking eyes with the female huntress. Rather than striking a final blow on the soldier at his feet, Brutus lets out a cry and begins a retreat into the shaded woods. The trio scan the woods, weapons at the ready, but hold their own fire.

With assurance from Finnick and Peeta that the coast is clear, Annie comes out from hiding and clutches to Peeta’s side. “Are they gone?”

“I think so. But…who were they?”

“War party.” The young man in the trio speaks up. “And it wasn’t the last of them. We need to leave.”

“Your injured should return to wherever you came from,” the woman says, pulling an arrow from the back of a fallen. She wipes the blood off with a piece of cloth and slides it into her quiver. “They’ll never survive the trek north. And release your horses.”

“Why would we do that?” Finnick asks harshly. “We’ll make better time on them.”

“And you’re likely to get tracked,” the woman answers. She had nerves of steel, with no distress in her voice over what just occurred. “Where are you headed?”

“Fort William Henry. Only a day and a half from here,” Finnick answers, reluctantly releasing his stead and slapping it on the rump to send it galloping off.

The trio look at each other, speaking a language the others don’t understand. The old man steps up. “We’ll take you as far as the fort. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve replenished.”

The young man stares at Finnick. “Not that your soldiers will be needing any of their supplies anymore.”

“Gale!” The woman snaps, but he only shrugs and begins collecting powder pipes and bullets from the fallen soldiers’ packs. The woman shakes her head and walks around, collecting her used arrows, inspecting them, and either tossing or putting them with her others.

Finnick sighs. “We don’t know these people. How are we to trust them?” He runs his hand through his hair, scratching at the crown of his head. He trusted the last native he was sent, who’s to say these are any different. They are clearly natives, judging by their darker complexion, but during this time of war, it was never sure who was on whose side.

“We don’t have a choice,” Annie says quietly. “Or would you want us to retreat with the wounded?”

Finnick shakes his head. “No. I am to lead you to Fort William Henry and that I will do.” He glances over at Peeta. “Make sure you have something to defend yourself with, should the need arise.”

As Finnick walks out of earshot, Peeta gives Annie’s hand a squeeze. “No one would ever imagine all the things you could stow away in that dress of yours.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The trio led them through the forest, where no tracks had been left, taking swift and easy steps to avoid the underbrush. Haymitch leads the way, with Gale and Katniss on the flanks. Finnick is nearest to Annie, helping to make sure she doesn’t trip on the rocks or roots, though she proves herself quite capable. It is Peeta who seemingly needs the most help. He is the loudest of the three, stepping on every twig and leaf, as if on purpose.

“You need to stay quiet,” Katniss hisses between her teeth.

“I’m trying,” he mumbles, but he continues to make enough noise for even the most novice tracker to hear.

She sighs. “Not hard enough.” Luckily, the river is only a few leagues away, which will make for a quieter trip. She glances over her shoulder at the struggling Yankee. “Were you injured?”

“I’m fine,” he answers.

“You’re limping.” She stops, waiting for him to catch up. _No wonder he’s so slow and loud_ , she thinks.

He shakes her off. “Old injury. It’s nothing.” He double times his efforts, pushing past her to catch up with the others. She watches him as he passes, a curious look on her face despite how noisy he was being.

“How far are we?” Finnick asked as they paused to take a water break.

Gale glances over the terrain. “Day and a half.”

“That…guide of yours…where did you get him?” Katniss asks, loading her pack with greenery from around the river bank.

“Colonel Crane sent him,” Finnick answers, filling his water pack. “I’m sure he didn’t realize Brutus was a traitor.”

“Or that he had a reason to murder your transports,” Haymitch mutters.

“What?!”

Haymitch tilts his head toward where Peeta and Annie are resting. “The boy…”

Finnick shakes his head incredulously. “Mister Mellark. No, no Brutus never saw him before today.”

“Is he of any importance to anyone?” Katniss asks, staring at the pale Englishman.

“Of course not. He was…I don’t know, he was summoned…but no, they are no one.” He furrows his eyebrows, “but how is it that you three were so close?”

“Tracking the war party,” Katniss answers, “and you’re welcome.”

“Are you other scouts?” Peeta asks, as he and Annie join the rest. “Or part of the militia?”

Gale snorts. “We aren’t scouts. And we aren’t in no damn militia. England does not protect me and mine. England is using the war against France for her own greed.” He smirks at Peeta’s shocked expression. No doubt those in England are not used to those who speak out against the King’s rule.

“Gale…” Katniss gently rests her hand on his arm. “Look.”

“No…” Haymitch takes off faster than Gale or Katniss had ever seen him before, towards the smoke that is billowing up.

Annie is the last to arrive at the frontier house; her dress getting caught in the branches and ripping into the top layer of cloth. She gasps at the sight before her, burying her head in Peeta’s shoulder. Where once there was a house is now just charred and smoldering wood. The worst of it, though, was the hanging, charred body of a small child in what was once the doorway of the house. Peeta feels his stomach churn as he takes in the rest of the dead bodies strewn across the ground; a man, a woman, two other small bodies, their heads detached but near the bodies. They stay on the outskirts of the land while Katniss and Gale slowly trek through the wreckage.

Haymitch comes out of the house, his olive skinned now a light shade of green. “All dead…but nothing…”

“There are some prints, Haymitch,” Katniss offers quietly.

He shakes his head. “Mirrors…tools…clothes…all inside. They didn’t take anything…”

“Movin fast, not able to carry much. War party?” Gale asks, his heart dropping.

Haymitch nods.

“No doubt allied to the French,” Katniss says ominously. “Why else would they hang the youngest? It must be a sign. A warning.” She looks over at her clenched-jaw cousin. “There was nothing we could have done. You must know that.”

“Let us look after them…” Finnick says, approaching the bodies.

“Leave them,” Haymich orders, his voice uncharacteristically gruff. He pushes through the others, Katniss and Gale following not far behind.

“Peeta,” Annie whispered, “we have to do something. We can’t just leave them out like this. It’s not proper.”

Peeta unwraps his arm around her and takes a step toward the bodies. “You can’t just walk away from them. They may be strangers but they are at least entitled to a burial.”

Katniss shakes her head. “We’re leaving.”

“I may not be as well-versed in war as you, but even I know the attack of unarmed women and children is heinous. Just as heinous as your indifference to their fate,” he shoots back.

She turned on him suddenly, her silver eyes flashing at him. In only a few short steps, she was in his face, causing him to step back suddenly. “Mister Mellark,” she snaps, “they are no strangers. And they stay as they lay. We’re leaving.”

Peeta is shaken by her response, given how cold she had just been about them a few minutes ago. He is the last to leave, unable to tear his eyes from the scene. _Who are these people? What happened here?_

* * *

At night, they rest at the top of a glade, overlooking the forest they just walked out of. From their packs, Gale and Haymitch unload blankets and toss them at the others. Finnick lays one out below the top of the mound and gestures for Annie and Peeta to rest there. Annie, still shaking from what she’s seen, curls into the fetal position and falls asleep almost instantly, but Peeta is restless. He sees Katniss on watch near the top of the mound and seeks her out.

She’s watching the tree line, scanning for movement when he arrives. “Why didn’t you bury those people?”

“They were killed by a war party, allied with the French. Anyone looking for you-” she glances at him, then back at where Annie is sleeping near Finnick, “and us would see it as a sign that we passed that way.”

“You knew them,” he says, realization dawning on him. “Those people, they were no strangers.”

“Yes,” she answers quietly.  “They were not strangers.”

“I apologize. I…I clearly misunderstood your intentions.”

She scoffs. “It’s of no surprise to me. Haymitch and Gale…they warned me about your kind.”

“My kind?”

“English. English men, anyway”

“Ahh.” He says with a smile. “Have you met many…English men...like me?”

She’s unsuccessful at stopping the grin that pulls at her lips. “Like you? I suppose I’ve never had any encounters with someone quite like you until today.” Her face steels and she puts her hand out to hush him. She aims her bow at a small clearing. A painted face with bright silver eyes flash at them momentarily before disappearing again. Katniss pulls her arrow back, prepared to release at the next sight of whoever was out there.

She glances at Gale, who is staring just as intently at the clearing, his gun loaded and ready to fire. His eyes shift toward hers and he shakes his head slightly. They both turn back to the clearing and slowly lower their weapons.

“They turned back?” Peeta whispers. “Why?”

“On the other side of this glen is a burial ground. In our culture, it is a dishonor to fight on sacred ground,” she explains.

“Is Haymitch your father?”

Katniss snorts. “Hardly. He is an uncle, though not by blood.”

“And Gale?”

“Gale is Haymitch’s nephew, last of the true blood of the tribe. Last that we know of, anyway.”

Peeta fixes his eyes on her profile, half-lit by the moon and stars above them. “What about you? You’re not ‘true blood’?”

She sighs. “Not fully. My father was but my mother was like you. English,” she explains. “She ran off from the settlement with him and raised us out on the land.”

“Us?”

Katniss smiles and pulls an old, weathered picture from her pack for him to look at. “My sister, Prim.”

“You favor your father,” he comments. “But you have your mother’s smile.”

Her face drops. “I am nothing like my mother. But it does not matter, they’re gone now. Everyone is gone except for Haymitch, Gale, and I.”

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Why were those people living in such a defenseless place?”

“Frontier land is the only thing poor people can afford. The Masons spent seven years in indentured service in Virginia and when they were released, they moved west. Out here, they don’t belong to anyone. Jessen and Alexandra Mason.”

Peeta leans against the rock and looks up at the sky full of stars. “In London, you can never see such beauty.”

“My father’s people had a story that began long ago, before the two legged creatures walked the Earth. There were no stars or moon in the sky, the nights were dark and the animals continuously bumped into each other. They told the Great Spirit that they were thankful for all they had, but would like to be able to see at night. The Great Spirit picked up a bright stone from the stream and placed it in the sky – the first star. ‘This is your home star,’ he told them. He told them to collect more, and slowly he began to fill the sky with shiny stones, one for each of the creatures who helped. It’s said that we are like those animals, working to light the night sky and when we die, He rewards us with our own star.” She looks up at the sky, where five stars shine brightly in a line. “The Masons’ spirit is with us up there. My family’s too, I suppose.”

She looks over at him, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. Never before has she had anyone listen so intently to her stories, or look at her in such a way. It’s new and unfamiliar but not completely unwelcomed. She turns away, back to the tree line.

“When we received word we were to come to the frontier of the Americas, I never imagined it would be like this,” he admits.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she answers stiffly.

He reaches out and lays his hand on her arm, his pale skin a compliment to her olive. The warmth from his touch spreads through her body, relaxing her to a state she’s rarely experienced. “On the contrary. It is more beautiful and amazing than any imagining could possibly have been. I can never thank you enough for that. Good night, Katniss.”

As he returned to the spare blanket near Annie and Finnick, Katniss can’t help but to watch him. He was loud and pushy but surprising – so unlike the other Englishmen she had come into contact with. Different even than the Masons; he seemed willing to learn and was open to what was happening. But there was something more, something hidden about him. Something that made her want to know more about him. It was a dangerous notion.

The next day, the deep fog has Peeta’s knee aching worse than usual, but he refuses help when Annie offers it. “I’ll keep up,” he tells her. “It won’t be much longer.”

“Top of this ridge,” Katniss says, overhearing their conversation. “The fort is just downhill of it. We’ll be there by nightfall at the latest.”

“See,” he says with a smile, “I can make it till then.”

“The men of the regiment will provide every comfort,” Finnick adds. “It will keep us all safe and secure.”

Fort William Henry is anything but. The roars of the French cannon fire roll like thunder. Through the dense smoke that hangs in the air, making it seem later in the night than it is, exploding mortar bombs flash brightly. Trenches dug by French soldiers grow closer and closer, exposing Fort William Henry to continued damage. The English gun crew fire their rifles into the trenches in attempt to combat the heavy canon fire, but they are grossly outgunned.

Amidst the fighting, Finnick shouts to the battle-weary soldiers to open sally-port, allowing them entrance. With only a lone torch to guide their way, they move through the long, dank tunnel past the enlisted men meant to protect it.

“Leftanant Odair!”

“Captain Latier, never thought I’d see again,” Finnick greets the man.

“How’d you survive out there?” Captain Latier asked incredulously. “It’s raining bullets.”

Finnick shakes his head. “We’ve had help. Where is Colonel Crane? I have his transports.”

“Come with me.”

They follow the torch through the rest of the noisy tunnel. Annie releases her hold on Peeta’s arm to cover her ears, sheltering herself from the deafening, nightmarish sounds of the fort under siege.

“Hawthorne? Brainless?” A voice cries over out over the gunfire. “What the hell?”

Katniss lets out a surprised laugh as Johanna Mason leaps off the gunnery wall in front of them. Gale embraces her and spins her off the ground.

“I can’t believe you two joined up!”

“We didn’t,” Gale says, putting her back on the ground.

“Just wanted to check in on you, Mason,” Katniss answers, accepting the other woman’s embrace. Despite their perceived indifference to one another, Katniss has to admit it’s good to see a familiar face again. Even if it is Johanna Mason’s. “Oh, and we collected this.” She hands Johanna a small trinket they recovered from the cabin house. It’s just a small pocket square of her mothers, filled with pine needles and sewn shut into a pouch.

Johanna runs her fingers over the embroidered M on the side. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, stuffing it into her shirt.

Gale reaches for her elbow. “We’ll talk later, Mason.”

“Odair?” A tall, skinny man with the overgrown remnants of what was once a finely sculpted beard strides toward them, clearing through the people in his way. “What are you doing here?”

“We came on orders Colonel Crane,” Finnick answers, saluting his commanding officer, “from Heavensbee, Sir.”

Crane looks stunned. “Colonel Heavensbee? But I wrote him telling him it wasn’t safe for…any of you.”

“He must not have gotten it. All we received was a guide.”

“I never sent a guide,” Crane retorts. “So does Heavensbee not know we’re under such fire?”

Finnick shakes his head. “He has no idea. And he wouldn’t know to send reinforcements.”

Crane sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “Come along, into quarters, all of you. What happened?” He asks, as the entire group treks behind him, leaving the soldiers and militia behind. Finnick tells him of the attack, led by the supposed guide, and how the three saved them and led them to the fort relatively unharmed. “Thank you,” Crane says, opening the door to the semi-private quarters for Peeta and Annie to enter. “How can I reward you?”

Katniss, Gale, and Haymitch look at each other and speak without their words. “Help ourselves to a few horns from your powder stores,” Gale says.

“And some food,” Katniss answers.

Crane nods. “Of course. Our kitchen and armory are open to you. Captain Latier will show you the way.” He excuses the three. “Mister Mellark, Miss Cresta, we don’t have much in terms of quarters for you two, but Mrs. Trinket will make up what she can until we can get you out of here. Captain Odair, you’re with me.”

“Before we go,” Katniss says, taking a step forward. “We came upon a frontier cabin yesterday, burned out, everyone murdered.”

“A war party. So?” Crane answered, not bothering to look at her.

She glances at Haymitch, then over at Peeta, who encourages her to continue. “It was more than just a normal war party. It was an attack by French allies. They left…signs. Warnings. Many of your militia live along the frontier and their homes are in danger.”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss,” Crane dismisses her.

“They were promised-”

“That is enough!” Crane snapped, meeting her eyes.

Katniss narrows her eyes but Gale’s hand on her shoulder stops her from another outburst. She huffs and turns, storming out of the room, almost knocking Captain Latier over in the process. Gale and Haymitch quietly follow suit, throwing death glances over their shoulders.

“Things were done,” Finnick says quietly, remembering the carnage at the frontier house. “Unspeakable things…”

“A feature of war with savages,” Crane retorts coldly. “But thoughts like that border on sedition, Odair. Best to keep your mind focused on the larger picture, which is the war against the French. You are excused.”

* * *

“Are we safe here, Peeta?” Annie asks, the next morning, changing into a thinner skirt as provided by the somewhat eccentric Mrs. Trinket. “With Colonel Crane at the helm?”

Peeta stares at the wall, his hand running through his hair. “I don’t know, Annie, but I think we’d be good to take him up on his word to leave as soon as possible. I don’t entirely trust that man.”

“What are we supposed to do until then? I’m dressed, by the way.”

He turns around and smiles at his friend, who finally looks like the girl he befriended so many years ago. She sits on the edge of her own bed, her leg softly bouncing beneath her with nervous energy. “We make ourselves useful without attracting too much attention.”

Annie snorts, “Easier said than done. Everyone saw who we came with; the leftant, Haymitch, Gale, Katniss, we can’t stay invisible here.”

“We don’t need to be invisible, Annie. We just need to blend in. As far as anyone is concerned, we are transports and nothing more. Mrs. Trinket seemed taken with you.”

“Years of training as a housemaid go unwasted,” Annie comments, rolling her eyes. “You’ll be in the kitchen?”

He nods. “No use in learning a new skill when we don’t particularly need it. Especially since we aren’t doing any kind of recon. But even so-”

He’s cut off by the knocking, then presence of Finnick Odair at their door. “Am I interrupting?” He asks, staring at the two of them.

“Not at all,” Peeta answers, rising from his bed. “I’m actually about to take off for the kitchen, try to make myself useful. Annie, I’ll send word for Mrs. Trinket to visit?”

Annie nods her assent, “Thank you, Peeta.”

“Of course. Leftant.” He couldn’t help but smirk as he walked out of the room, leaving Annie and Finnick alone. Earlier in the day, she confided in him that she found the leftenant attractive, if not somewhat stuffy in his duties. He, being her friend and understanding more about the psyche of military men than she did, took it upon himself to drop a few hints Finnick’s way. Of course, it didn’t take many hints, as Finnick had become quite enamored by her as well.

As for leaving them alone in her room, while it certainly is improper and indecent of a military man, Annie could most definitely look after herself if he were to try anything unsavory. If anything, she could better care of herself than Peeta could. Leftenant Odair was getting himself into a whole new world of woman with her.

It’s how he feels about Katniss. She’s unlike any one he’s met and it was his job for years to deal with strange and unusual people. But for the first time in his memory, he feels out of his depth, like he’s drowning. The more he struggles to learn more about him, the more disoriented he feels. Every so often he gets a breath of air when she lets her guard down but as soon as she restores it it’s worse than before.

He’s only known her for two days but already he can’t imagine life without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true hobbit tradition, here is a present for my readers on my birthday. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I had some other things come up and hit a road block with the smut (YES THERE'S SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER) which took a while to break through. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't take as long to update :)

Johanna is uncharacteristically quiet after Haymitch tells her the news. She rolls the bag of pine needles Katniss gave to her over and over in her hand, but otherwise sits completely still. Haymitch offers her a drink of his whisky, something he swiped as his own personal ‘thank you’ gift from the English, and she graciously accepts, taking a long swig. “Everyone I love is dead…” she mutters.

“Jo,” Gale begins, resting his hand on her shoulder.

In an instant, she stiffens and brushes away the tears that stain her cheeks. “Mine won’t be the only one, they’ll be attacking up and down the frontier. The others here have families out there, too. We can’t...we’ve got to talk to Crane. Heavensbee promised us we’d be allowed back to our homes if this were to happen.”

Katniss looks at Haymitch and frowns. “We did, as soon as we got here. But he either refused to believe it or has no intention of keeping Heavensbee’s word. My vote would be on the latter.”

“Then we’ll just have to make him believe it,” Johanna snaps. “If the others catch word of what happened, they’ll desert before sunrise. England is still the tyrannical overlord. Not even the French can change that fact.”

Haymitch puts his hand up. “Enough,”

“No,” she continues, “Snow’s arm may be long but even he can’t keep his hold on us for long. And if they continue to let our people be murd-“

“Enough,” Haymitch says with finality.

Johanna shrinks back slightly, but the anger remains all over her face.

“Desertion will get you shot,” Katniss reminds her. “Even this conversation is grounds for sedition. They’ll beat you, Jo, if not hang you.”

“That’s a risk we’d all take for our families,” she says. “Isn’t it?” She stares pointedly at Gale, who averts his eyes. “I’ll call the others, we’ll meet again tonight, decide what to do. This is our decision,” she says as Katniss opens her mouth to argue the point, “and we’ll accept the consequences, whatever they may be.”

Katniss closes her lips into a thin line, annoyed at her friend’s recklessness in this situation. And at Gale for seemingly agreeing with and encouraging it. The Masons were friends and near family for them all, they were all grieving still. But to let Johanna go off half-cocked with a plan that could get her killed as well was too much.

She pushes herself up and walks away from the group, ignoring Gale’s calls for her to return. She waves him off, needing space and air and to be away from it. She understood Johanna’s anger, she had enough when her own family died, but vengeance wouldn’t bring them back. It wouldn’t bring any of them back. It would only destroy them further.

No one pays much attention to Katniss as she wanders through the fort, passing by civilians and militia alike. Some nod their greeting, having known her or her kin previously, but most say nothing.

“Oof!”

“Ouch! I’m sorry, Miss…oh…hello, Katniss.”

Katniss steadies herself against the wall and holds out her other arm to help the woman she just ran into. “Hello, Annie. I’m sorry, I…I must not have been paying attention.”

“Oh it’s no worry,” Annie answers, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face. “I need to start paying attention when I leave our quarters.” They both go quiet, unsure what else to say to one another. This is the longest conversation the two women have had since they met, never having had reason to speak before today. “Are you hungry?” Annie asks.

“Hungry?”

“Because Peeta’s in the kitchens. And I’m sure he could fix you something…if you were hungry…or something…” Annie says with a smirk and a shrug.

Katniss tips her head to the side, scrunching her eyebrows. “I…”

“You look a bit stressed. I’ve found that food helps in times of stress.” She points down the hall. “Kitchen is that way, down the stairs and to the left. It’s hard to miss.” Without another word, she turned and left Katniss alone in the dimly lit hall.

It had been a while since she had a good meal. And Crane promised provisions.

It turns out, Annie was right, it is almost impossible to miss the kitchen. The smells wafted all the way through the lower level of the fort and the sounds of cooking followed soon after. She leans in the open doorway, watching the synchronization of the workers as they prepare whatever meal they’re working on. Off to the side, away from the majority of the hustle, she finds Peeta. His shirt is rolled up past his elbows and he’s kneading dough, alone in his own world. He’s got flour all over his hands and halfway up his arms, the muscles in his exposed forearms flex as he works the dough over and over on the table. Every so often, she gets a peak of his tongue as it slips out to wet his lips. He looks calm, relaxed, not at all like he’s in a military fort that’s under attack from an army that only needs a few days to overtake them.

“Can we help you, Miss?”

One of the cook’s questions breaks her of her hypnotic gaze. “Oh, no, I…I must have just gotten lost or…”

“Katniss?” Peeta looks up from his work at her words. He smiles, perhaps bigger than he should, and wipes his hands off of his pants, leaving flour prints on his thighs. “Hello. What are you doing down here?” It’s not accusatory, as she might expect it to be, having been caught staring at him unabashedly, but curious.

“I, um, well, Annie sent me down. She said I looked…peckish, I believe is the word she used.”

Peeta laughs and waves her over to his table. “She’ll be a great mother someday, always fussing about over other people. I can’t tell you how many times she nearly broke cov- um, never mind.” He flushes at his babbling. “Are you? Hungry, I mean.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to be a disturbance to your work,” she answers quickly, though her rumbling stomach argued vehemently. She covers her stomach with her hands and smiles ruefully. “I’m sure we still have food in our packs.”

“Nonsense,” he says, using a damp cloth to finish cleaning the flour off his hands. He drapes the cloth over the dough he was just working with. “Besides, I’ve nothing to do until the dough rises. Keep me company.”

Time passes relative quickly when she’s in his company and in what feels like nothing, he tells her his bread is ready to bake. She tries to hide her disappointment, it was a perfectly enjoyable time and she isn’t looking forward to going back to Johanna or Gale. Her ability to mask her emotions must be slipping because he’s quick to ask if she has anywhere she has to be or if she’d like to stay for a while. And she’s just as quick to accept.

“Tell me about your family,” she says, cutting an apple into slices and popping them into her mouth.

“Well, I’m the youngest of three boys. We all worked in our father’s bakery until we came of age and joined the military for our civil service. My brothers...one is still part of the Royal Army and the other went back to the bakery.”

“And what about you?”

He looks up at her. “What about me?”

“What are you planning on doing when you’ve completed your ‘civil service’ thing?” She asks, tossing him a piece of apple.

“I am done,” he answers, catching the apple in his left hand. She quirks an eyebrow which makes him laugh. “What?”

“It’s just, you seem too young to be finished already,” she says. “The leftant is older than you and he’s still involved.”

Peeta grins and nods his head. “You are very perceptive, Katniss. Finnick is older than I am, but we had different...duties, I suppose.”

“What were your duties?”

He looks down at the chunk of apple he’s been passing from hand to hand, then back up at her. “So inquisitive. Come along, the staff will be preparing the evening meal for the troops.” He holds his hand out to help her off the counter.

“Thank you, Mister Mellark-”

“Peeta,” he corrects. “Please, Peeta.”

Katniss smiles. “Peeta. I should return to Haymitch and Gale before they worry.”

“I doubt they worry too much about you,” he says, his thumb brushing over hers.

She aches to leave their hands together, to stay interlocked for eternity, but she knows she can’t. It’s impossible. It’s improbable. It’s far too intimate and unnerving. And dangerous. “Still…”

“Still you need to go,” he finishes with a sad smile. “Well you know where I’ll be if you’d like to keep me company tomorrow.”

“I’d very much enjoy that.”

She looks back over her shoulder as she leaves the kitchen, wondering just how she’s supposed to make it out of here without him.

“Where have you been?”

“Hello to you too, Gale,” Katniss says, brushing past her friend’s harsh gaze.

“I asked you a question.” He grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. “You just got up and left without telling us where you were heading.”

She shrugged her arm free. “I needed some space. I’m back now.”

“Clearly,” he answered dryly. “Come on, Jo’s waiting for us.”

She rolled her eyes but followed him to where a large number of militia members were crowding around wreckage from the day’s battle. Gale stood by Haymitch and Johanna near what must be the head of the group, but Katniss hung back, clinging to the shadows around them. She didn’t want a mutiny. She didn’t want any of this.

“Anyone caught leaving the fort could be shot, so everyone make their own decision. Those who are going, we leave tomorrow night. Make your preparations.”

* * *

 She doesn't sleep. She claims it's the fighting that keeps her up. It never stops here, the fighting. The army and militia rotate shifts so there are always men on patrol. And women, as Katniss has learned. Many women who are just as, if not more, capable with a gun than the men. But it's not the fighting that keeps her awake tonight, it's her own thoughts.

They aren't supposed to still be here - her, Gale, and Haymitch. The fort was a temporary pause to replenish their supply before taking off again. But now Gale has this desertion. And Haymitch has his white liquor. And she...

She could leave with Johanna and the others. Take off into the dark night back to...back to wherever. Gale would go with her if she asked him too. As would Haymitch, even if he did complain the entire time. But what of Peeta? Would he join them, desert his homeland and risk the wilderness? Would he insist on bringing Annie? And Finnick, who so clearly had fallen for girl, would never let her go alone.

Katniss. Gale. Haymitch. Peeta. Annie. Finnick. The list is too long.

The fort feels different at night. There aren't nearly as many people milling about or going about their business. The stars barely peak through the cloud of gunpowder that settles over them, but it is enough for her keen eyes to pick up on. Enough for her to walk through the halls as quietly as she would in the day. She’s not heading anyone in particular, not looking for anyone or anything, but she finds herself drawn back to the hall where she ran into Annie earlier that day. Her quarters. Hers and Peeta’s. Katniss isn’t sure how she remembers it’s the same hallway, but she’s certain it is.

A low light slips out through the cracks of a door, the door Annie came out of. _Is one of them still awake?_ Even if it was Annie, company on this lonely night would be nice. She quietly knocks on the door, barely audible over the gunfire outside. _It’s no use_.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, shirtless and only in his breeches, she finds it difficult to speak. She’s seen men without their shirts before, well-toned men, but she finds his chest particularly intriguing. Pale skin with a light dusting of blond hair that darkens as it leads down to the waistband of his breeches.

“Kantiss?” He draws her attention back up to his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, taking a step back, “I couldn’t sleep and I was just out and…um…I shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s okay,” he says, concern etched on his face. “You couldn’t sleep?”

“Why are you awake?” She asks, attempting to regain control of herself. “Um, I mean…”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he admits, tilting his head toward the sky. “The bombs bring back some, um, unpleasant memories I’m afraid.”

“Nightmares?”

He nods. “Of sorts, yes. I suppose that’s quite a weak trait in a man, but-”

“No!” She exclaims before covering her mouth with her hand, both at the volume and intensity of her outburst. “No, you…you can’t control your dreams. There are nights where Haymitch does not sleep. And…and he’s not…weak.”

“Haymitch seems to be a fine man, so thank you for the reassurance,” he says with the half smile she’s come to enjoy. “Would you, um, would you like to come in? Or is that…”

“What about Annie?”

He ducks his head back to look into the room. “She’s a heavy sleeper. Unless you’re planning on being exceptionally loud I doubt you’ll disturb her.”

Her face flushes at the thought of being exceptionally loud with Peeta, even though she’s sure that’s not what he intended. She had enjoyed their time together in the kitchen and had somehow wound up outside his door – of all the doors in the fort. “Yes, I would…I would like to.”

He opened the door a little wider to allow her in and led the way to his small bed. She crawled in first, sitting closest to the open window, curling into his side as he joined her. It was hot outside, stuffy with the added smoke and heat from the gunfire. And his bare skin radiates warmth of its own. She should be hot and uncomfortable, but instead it feels perfect, wrapped in his arms.

She wakes up before the sun. “I should go,” she tells him. “Before anyone realizes…”

He grumbles something about staying like this forever before reluctantly loosening his hold. “Come visit me later?”

She smiles before she leaves. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Katniss.”

* * *

Katniss spends the next day with Peeta in the kitchen again. They don’t talk about the night before, about how they slept better than they had in weeks. They don’t talk about how it felt to wake up in each other’s arms. They keep it safe, keep it shallow. Favorite colors, funny childhood stories, anything and everything other than what they want to talk about. But Katniss doesn’t mind, she enjoys the easy, slightly one-sided conversations with Peeta. He likes to talk, it seems, and she likes to listen to his musical accent, with his trilled r’s that he says comes from his mother’s Welsh heritage. He never pushes her to tell him stories or answer his questions, but always watches her so intently when she does. It makes her feel naked and vulnerable but it doesn’t scare her like it should.

“How long are you staying?” She asks him before she leaves for the night to help protect those who are going back to their homesteads. “Here, I mean.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”

“If…if we, Gale, Haymitch, and I, if we were to leave soon…”

“Tell me when,” he answers instantly. “I’d leave tonight if that meant…”

She nods her head. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

They keep this arrangement, spending days talking in the kitchens while Peeta works and nights in silence in each other’s arms. Both comfort the pair in entirely new and different ways. So when Katniss doesn’t knock on his door that night, Peeta goes looking for her. He hasn’t been out of his quarters or the kitchens for the duration of his stay, but all British forts are basically set up the same, so it’s easy enough for him to traipse about without getting too terribly lost. He quickly finds his way to where they arrived, where most of the fighting is occurring, and scans through the crowds for her. She told him that day that the three often stay with those they know within the militia, but in the dark, with only the glow of gunfire lighting the way, it is difficult to distinguish between them. He is about to give up, believing that perhaps her question about leaving soon meant she already had, when he spots her, sitting up near the top of the fort, black against the pale moon that shines above her.

“You should be getting some sleep,” she says when Peeta is only a yard behind her. He pauses until she turns toward him with a tired smile on her face.

“Says who?” He jokes, sitting beside her and offering her the blanket he grabbed from his room. It’s hot out, stuffy still, but there is a breeze that blows up here that brings a slight chill. “You know they’re fighting on the other side.”

She follows his gaze to her bow, with an arrow already notched and ready for her to fire if necessary. “Different battles are being waged all around.”

Peeta nods. “So you’re a lookout?” He chuckles at her shocked expression. “I don’t know that I blame those who left,” he continues in a quiet voice. “If I had family out there…”

“You’d desert? Be a traitor to your country? To your duty?” She struggles with the words, with the very notion. It’s different for her, she has no real family to protect anymore. And even if she did, she would never have joined the fight for the oppressor. But Peeta, he was one of them, a true citizen of Britain, with deeper ties than anyone in the militia.

He takes a deep breath and stares out into the woods. “You saw what it’s like out there, Katniss, the likelihood of anyone in his fort surviving to the end of this battle is remote. If it were me, I wouldn’t want them to change me, to turn me into some kind of monster that values loyalty to a tyrannical crown over those I love.” He’s not angry as he says these words, but definite, steadfast, resolved. As if he’s thought of this before and has struggled with how to maintain some sort of identity and purity of self.

It’s a thought Katniss has never considered before. The difference in loyalties. How war may change a person in such a way that they wouldn’t recognize themselves. “Do you think you’ll survive this?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m afraid not. I don’t think I was ever a contender for survival in this world. Not like you.” He reaches over and rubs his thumb over her cheekbone. It’s an intimate gesture.

“We could survive this together,” she says in a hoarse whisper. “If you’d like.”

He leans in, cupping her face with his hand, and presses his lips against hers. When he pulls away, she struggles to catch her breath. They’re still close, close enough for Katniss to see the dark rings of blue that outline his pupils, for Peeta to count the freckles that splay out across the bridge of her nose, for them both to still feel the heat from the other’s lips. She misses his lips already, so she leans forward to kiss him again. Her fingers dig into the thin fabric of his shirt. His hands slip down to wrap around her waist, pulling her onto his lap in one fluid motion.  She parts her lips in invitation and his slides his tongue into her mouth.

She gasps into him, having never kissed a man quite like this before. He can’t breathe without her.

“Peeta,” she pants, pulling her lips away and resting her forehead against his. He opens his eyes and stares up into hers.

“My Katniss,” he answers with a smile, rubbing small circles on her back with his thumbs. “You are everything I never knew I wanted in this world. And I want to spend every fleeting night I have left on this earth with you. If you’ll allow it.”

Katniss isn’t good with words like he is. Especially when his words throw her off guard the way they do. She wants to tell him she feels the same, that she can’t imagine going back to her life with Haymitch and Gale if Peeta isn’t a part of it. That she needs him, maybe even more than he thinks he needs her. Not just in this moment, not just for the night, but for as long as she can think. She needs him to survive.

She’s not good with words, but she’s good with actions. So she kisses him again, hungry with need and desire. She pulls up at the bottom of his linen nightshirt, running her fingers over his exposed skin.

His hands move to grab her wrists, pausing her motions. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

If it’s possible, his eyes shine even brighter at her affirmation. “Then we should do it right.” He kisses her, but slower, more precise. When she tries to hurry him, he stops and waits for her to realize what he’s doing. She lolls her head to the side and he trails his lips down her neck, licking and nipping at the pressure points that make her grind into him and let out little whimpers.

“Can I?” She asks quietly, bringing her lips to the same points on his neck. His soft sighs encourage her to continue as she slips her tongue out to trace his skin. It makes her everything inside her burn for more.

So when his hands move from her side to the front of her breeches, untying the laces that hold them up, she doesn’t fight. She inhales at the touch on her lower abdomen, but when he begins to pull away, she sucks on the sensitive skin behind his ear, a spot she can instantly feel he loves. His hand slides back down to the soft thatch of curls between her legs and she backs away at his exhale.

“What?” She asks, worried that she may have already done something wrong.

He looks up at her with a curious expression. “You’re not…not wearing any…”

She scrunches her eyebrows. “Any what?”

“Any _thing_ ,” he says in a hushed whisper, nodding down to her breeches. “Under.”

“Oh,” she exhales with relief. “No, we often don’t. Is that unusual?”

He smiles and leans forward to kiss her. “I forget how different our worlds are sometimes. Unusual, yes, but not entirely unwelcomed as far as I’m concerned.” Once his fingers find their way to her center, her back arches, pushing her chest toward his face.

Peeta takes that as a sign and pulls her shirt up, exposing her bare chest. She looks down at him through hooded eyes, waiting for his response. She’s not sure what she expects, no one has ever really looked at her breasts but she’s certain that they’re nothing all that noteworthy. But the way he’s looking at her calms all her nerves and makes her anxious all at the same time.

Her nerves are on fire. His mouth attaches to one of her breasts just as he inserts a finger into her. His hum burns through her skin and she bucks into him, her fingers gripping his blond curls for stability. He releases her breast and pulls her down for a kiss, muffling the moan she releases when he slips another finger inside.

He loves the way she feels around him, the sighs and whimpers she makes, the way she moves her hips as she learns her own body’s signs and desires.

She slides her hand down to the tightening in his pants and he swears he could explode right then. “I want to,” she tells him, kissing him to confirm her own feelings. “I want you.” She fumbles with the laces on his own breeches, pulling them off with some help from him. Katniss has seen a man’s penis before, but never like this, hard and swollen. She lightly traces her fingers over the shaft, unaware of how badly she’s teasing him until she looks up and sees the grimace on his face. “Bad?”

“Oh no,” he answers with a near violent head shake. “Good. So good.”

She licks her lips and shifts her hips forward, brushing her clit over him. “Oh,” she gasps, repeating the movement over and over. “Is that?”

“Katniss,” Peeta groans. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to – oooh.”

“What do I do?” She asks, pausing long enough for him to open his bright blue eyes again. “How do we do this?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of her face, pulling her in for another kiss. “Lift up for a second.” He helps move her into position right above him and with both hands on her hips, he lowers her down until the tip of his cock rests at her entrance. “Go slow at first,” he warns, “and set your own pace.”

She nods and bites her lower lip as she moves down, feeling more stretched and full than she ever thought was possible. She pauses when she feels resistance, but his nod below her gives her strength to lower herself completely. The pain is nearly unbearable at first and she pauses, gripping his shoulders tightly and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Breathe,” he tells her through gritted teeth. It’s taking all of his self-control not to lose himself inside her right now. Or worse, to take total control over her. It takes a few minutes, though it feels like a lifetime, before she starts to move again. Slowly at first, she picks up her pace as the pain turns into a dull ache into an unknown pleasure that she desires more of. Once she sets her rhythm, he pushes up into her. He lays back, bringing her down with him. Their arms stretch out beyond his head, fingers intertwining tightly as they move together under the war sky. Love is born in rebellion, fire burning brighter than the gunfire below.

“You have stolen my heart,” she tells him, resting her head against his chest as they come down from their chemical and physical high.

“And you mine,” he tells her, holding her tightly. “It will always be yours, Katniss. For as long as you’d have it.” He reaches down for the blanket and wraps it around them both. “Are you alright?”

Katniss nods. “Sore,” she admits. “Are you?”

“Perfect. Like I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.” He runs his hands through her hair which has come free of its braid.

“I’d allow that,” she answers, stifling a yawn. “Peeta? How did you know about the desertion?”

He clenches his jaw and breathes deeply. “I was a spy,” he says into her hair. “I suppose, in a way, I still am.”


End file.
